Mothers, Sons and Windowless Houses
by Bounty Money
Summary: Tim McGee tries to help three kids and winds up shooting their mother. Their father is in Afghanistan and out of radio contact. The team must deal with the aftermath. Rated M for mature themes, violence and language.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note:**__ NCIS belongs to CBS and Donald Belisarius. I am making no money off this._

_This story contains themes and descriptions of child abuse and mental illness._

**Chapter 1**

"Hey, knock that off."

Jethro lurched forward on his leash. His ears lay flat against his head and he began to whine.

Tim looked around to see what was making his dog act so anxious.

A skinny, pale boy was sitting on the stoop outside a patio door. He was shielding the ears of a tiny girl that couldn't have been any older than four. They both seemed to be badly underweight and were silently crying. The way they hunched, it looked as though they were trying not to be seen.

"_YOU STUPID, LITTLE, UNGRATEFUL SHIT! I WISH I NEVER FUCKED YOUR FATHER, YOU FUCKING, GOOD-FOR-NOTHING PIECE OF SHIT!"_ a woman shrieked from inside the apartment. "_WHAT IN THE NAME OF GOD WAS I THINKING, GIVING BIRTH TO SUCH A STUPID LITTLE IDIOT LIKE YOU? CHRIST! I SHOULD'VE JUST ABORTED EVERY SINGLE FETUS THAT SHIT-HEAD EXCUSE OF A SLUG HUSBAND EVER SQUIRTED IN ME!"_

Someone, an elderly voice, was obviously trying to calm things down. There was a crashing noise, breaking glass, someone else started crying.

"MOM, PLEASE! I'M SORRY!"

"He's just a boy, Ma-"

"_SHUT UP, YOU SENILE FUCKING ASS-HOLE! I DON'T WANT TO HEAR YOUR WHINING! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY SIGHT!" _

Tim wasn't sure what to do, not exactly, but he couldn't stand there and act like he wasn't hearing it. He went over to the kids and crouched down so he didn't seem so threatening. "Hey, you two okay?"

The kids nodded, but didn't say anything.

"You wanna go play with my dog over at the park across the road?" God that sounded so…predatory. He cringed at the thought and pulled his badge out. "Here, see this? I'm a Federal Agent. My name's Tim McGee."

"Are you gonna 'rest momma?" the girl asked, looking up with puffy eyes. Her nose was running.

The boy quickly shushed her. "It's only yellin', mister. We're used to it."

_"STUPID, FUCKING SHIT-HEAD, YOU CALL THIS A CLEAN KNIFE? HUH? YOU THINK I'M GONNA EVEN TOUCH FOOD WITH THIS FILTHY FUCKING BLADE? LOOK HOW FILTHY THIS IS! WHAT IF I GOT AN INFECTION FROM CUTTING MYSELF? YOU'RE FUCKING USELESS!"_

A scream made Tim look up through the screen door. There was another boy crumpled next to the refrigerator. Blood was beginning to pool around him from severe wounds on his back. The woman had gone further into the house and was still screaming at someone. Cries of pain echoed through the small space.

"Take Jethro over to the park, okay? I'm going in to see if I can help calm things down," he told them, handing the little girl the leash. "I mean it."

Something in his voice must've tipped the younger brother off, because he looked inside. "Cullen!" he whispered in alarm. "He's bleeding!"

Tim shook his head at him. "Take your sister and my dog over to the park. _Now_."

They nodded, terrified, and quietly ran across the parking lot with Jethro following protectively behind them.

Special Agent Timothy McGee, of the Naval Criminal Investigative Service, took a deep breath and pulled out his cell phone. He needed help.

"_Gibbs." _a gruff voice said over the connection.

"Hey, Boss, I'm gonna be late. There's a situation at my apartment involving kids, can't stay out of it. One's been hurt, looks bad. I don't know specifics yet, but I think there's someone else being beaten as well."

"_Need back-up?"_ Gibbs asked, sounding concerned.

"I'm calling the police after I hang up here. We don't have jurisdiction, so I'll hand it off when the LEOs show. I'll be in as soon as I can."

"_Take your time, McGee. Give me a sitrep once it's under control."_

"Will do, boss," he said, hanging up.

After dialing 911 and explaining the situation, Tim pulled out his sidearm and entered the apartment. The place was a mess. "Federal Agent, ma'am! Come out where I can see you!"

A thin, pale woman with self-cropped brownish red hair came running out into the kitchen. Her body radiated an intense rage that charged the whole apartment. "Get out of my house, Fed, you got no business coming in here!" she bellowed, waving a pistol at him. The safety was off and her finger twitched around the trigger guard.

Tim stood his ground. "Ma'am, put the weapon down. I'm from NCIS and if you don't do as I say, you are going to be arrested."

"Not fucking likely, _pig_!" she snorted, leveling the .22 at him. "I'm well within my rights to shoot trespassers!"

He tried to reason with her. "Your son is lying right behind me, ma'am. If you shoot at me, you might miss and hit him."

The woman grinned and pointed the gun at the boy on the floor. "Good. One less fucking mouth to feed."


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's Note:**__ NCIS belongs to CBS and Donald Belisarius. I am making no money off this._

_This story contains themes and descriptions of child abuse and mental illness._

**Chapter 2**

"Please, think about what you're doing." Tim moved so he was standing directly over the injured boy. "You have two other children outside. Do you really want to do this?"

She looked toward the door, still holding the gun on him. "Should've smothered those little bastards the day I got home from the hospital. Fat little shits are worse than locusts."

He watched her gun hand. "Listen to me. If you really feel that way, we can talk to child services about this. They can find someone to take them off your hands for a while; you don't have to do anythi-."

The woman snapped her head around at him; there was nothing recognizably human left in her eyes. "Those children belong to me! I pushed them out; I can do whatever I want with them! They're mine! I **own** them!"

"Ma'am, if you don't put down the weapon, I'll have to hurt you." He took a deep breath to keep his voice from shaking. "You need help, and your son needs an ambulance."

"Fuck you!" She raised the gun toward his head, finger twitching on the trigger. "Fuck y-."

One shot was all it took. Tim watched her stare down at the blood welling from her chest in disbelief. "I'm sorry."

"Fucking pigs." Her knees buckled and she fell to the floor. She was dead before she landed.

* * *

"POLICE, DROP YOUR WEAPON!"

Tim gently laid his gun down next to him and put his hands up. "I'm Agent Timothy McGee from NCIS, I called this in. My badge and ID are in my inner jacket pocket on the right side."

* * *

As the officers swarmed the apartment with paramedics, Tim wandered over to the play park to find the other two children. He stood watching the little girl trying to tie Jethro's leash into a bow around his neck. The boy was sitting on one of the swings, just staring at the ground; there was vomit near his feet.

"Hi," he said, walking over.

The girl looked up at him and smiled; she had no front teeth. "You doggy real nithe, mister. Sank you for lettin' me play wif him."

"I…" Tim shook his head. "I-I need you two to come over to the apartment now."

The boy sniffled a little bit. "Is mama okay?"

"She's been…taken away by the police."

"Mommy inn't bad; she jus' get all mean a'cause she don' take her pill!" the girl cried, getting up to run over. "She gotta take her pill an' she be all fine again!"

Tim caught her around the waist before she could get past him. "I'm sorry."

"Please don't take us back there!" The boy ran over and hugged his legs tight. "I don't wanna go home!"

* * *

Tim watched as an ambulance drove away with the oldest son. The two smaller children wouldn't let go of him. They would become hysterical if anyone tried to pry them away, so the Child Services team had to wait around.

The lead officer on the scene had taken his statement and his gun for exclusionary purposes.

He flinched when somebody put a hand on his shoulder.

"You okay, McGee?" Gibbs asked, squatting down to face his junior agent.

"No."

"Need to talk about it?"

Tim shook his head. "It's all still…it's too much right now."

* * *

Special Agents Anthony DiNozzo and Ziva David, Tim's partners, watched from the sedan as their co-worker sat huddled with two small children on the curb. They were snuggled into his sides and would scream, kick, cling and claw at anyone who tried to get them away from him.

"God, what the fuck did Probie walk into?"

Ziva didn't say anything. She couldn't.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs, their team leader, sat in the front of the car and argued with someone over his cell phone. He snapped it shut. "Get processing, you two. Turns out the mother is the wife of a Petty Officer. This crime scene's our jurisdiction now."

"Where's the father?" Tony asked, instantly getting to business.

"Afghanistan. No radio contact."

"_Shit."_

"Yeah, and we're babysitters until he gets home."

Ziva glanced at McGee. "What about-"

"He's a material witness, he's not to be involved in the investigation," Gibbs cut her off. "Besides, he's got enough on his plate for a while."


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's Note:**__ NCIS belongs to CBS and Donald Belisarius. I am making no money off this._

_This story contains themes and descriptions of child abuse and mental illness._

_McGee's actions later might be out of character, but you have to remember that he'd just shot someone less than ten feet away from him. Add the chaos from the aftermath, and everything else. The human body just can't handle that much stress at once; it catches up. _

_Also, I've had panic attacks before; it really did feel like I was going to die._

**Chapter 3**

Tony stared down at the dead woman. "She was pretty."

"McGee made a good shot." Ziva said, taking a picture of the pistol. "His aim has improved."

"Christ, Ziva!"

She looked up at him. "What?"

"This isn't right!" He gestured toward the woman's body. "Why did he have to go for a kill shot? He was close enough to just wing her."

"The woman nearly killed her son, beat an old man to death and would have killed McGee. You want me to have sympathy for her?"

"What if she didn't know what she was doing?" he asked. "She probably had mental issues, or something."

"Why are you trying to make excuses for her actions?" Ziva stood up to start photographing the position of the body.

"I'm not! It's just…" Tony stepped around the woman's legs. "McGee just doesn't shoot people. Ever."

"He is a federal agent." She picked up the woman's gun and put it into an evidence bag. "He is trained to use lethal force if he feels it is necessary."

"I know, but-."

"It is McGee."

"Yeah."

* * *

Gibbs glanced up to the rearview mirror. "How're you holding up, Tim?"

Tim was in the back seat of the car, holding the girl in his lap while her brother was gripping his right arm. "I feel sick."

"We're almost to the hospital."

"I didn't wanna do it, Boss." Tim's voice cracked.

"I know."

The little girl looked around the car. "Where doggy?"

Tim looked at Gibbs, eyes wide with panic. "Where's Jethro?"  
"He's fine, Tim. I took him back up to your apartment."

McGee nodded. "Okay. Thanks, Boss."

* * *

"What's your name?" Tim asked, crouching in front of the girl. She was clinging to him, refusing to let anyone get close to her.

"Ashlynn Grace Turi."

"How old're you?"

She held up her hands, all five fingers on one and then one finger on the other. "I'm dis many."

He looked up at the doctor, who was taking notes. "She's six."

The doctor came closer, but Ashlynn squeaked and buried her face in Tim's shoulder.

"Careful," the woman sitting in the far corner said. She was the child advocate assigned to monitor them.

"Don't hurt her!" Her brother, Kevin, clambered down from the exam table. "She doesn't like shots!"

"I'm not going to do anything," the doctor said in a calm voice. "I only want to make sure none of you were hurt, alright?"

Kevin stood next to his sister, gripping her sleeve. "No!"

"Kevin, it's okay," Tim said. He glanced up at the doctor and the woman. "How about you do an exam on me; show them what you're gonna do."

"Just make sure nothing inappropriate is showing," the advocate said.

"I'll keep my pants on."

She nodded. "Alright then."

The doctor looked at the terrified children. "Okay. I'll go get you a gown, and you can change behind the curtain. Wait here."

* * *

Kevin tolerated his examination, but he kept looking toward Tim the whole time. Ashlynn needed to keep hold of Tim's hand, or she'd start crying and cowering away from the doctor.

It was hard to watch.

* * *

"Tim, you okay?" Gibbs asked, sitting down in the chair next to McGee.

"I don't know."

"What'd the doctor say?"

McGee shrugged. "Don't remember."

Gibbs noticed that the Turi children had fallen asleep on the floor at Tim's feet. "You need to go home, get some sleep."

He shook his head. "Can't."

"Why not?"

"I killed somebody, Boss." McGee leaned forward, starting to sob. "I killed somebody!"

"You didn't have a choice."

"I killed her, Gibbs!" He started rocking back and forth in the chair. "I didn't want to, but I k-killed h-her! God, I'm so sorry!"

Gibbs wrapped an arm around McGee's shoulders, looking around for a nurse. The man was starting to hyperventilate, going into a massive panic attack. Close quarters killings always hit harder than busts that turned into firefights.

"Sir, is he alright?" a nurse asked, coming over.

"He's having a panic attack."

"Do you think he'll agree to a sedative to take the edge off?"

Gibbs looked at McGee and nodded. "It might help."

McGee looked around, terrified. "Boss….can't…."

"I know, son. Take a deep breath and hold it, okay?"

"C-can't…." He was shaking hard, almost as if he were going into a seizure. "Sc-scared….boss!"

"Hold on, the doctor's gonna give you a sedative."

McGee gripped the arms of the chair, gagging.

Gibbs quickly maneuvered his youngest agent to the floor, getting him away from the two children. The last thing he wanted was for Tim to puke on the kids.

"Is…is….this a heart….heart attack?" McGee asked, latching onto Gibbs' shirt. "Don't….wanna….die!"

"It's a panic attack, there's nothing wrong with your heart; you hear me?"

He didn't seem to buy it, but he nodded anyway.

* * *

McGee was being prepped to be taken to a room as the sedative took hold.

Kevin and Ashlynn woke up and started crying for Tim, who kept trying to get off the gurney and protect them.

"No way in hell am I gonna sign off on that." Gibbs crossed his arms.

"I know you don't want him admitted for a psychiatric evaluation, but he just killed someone. He's clearly not handling it well."

"It's only been eight hours, and everything is catching up with him right now. That's all it is. One panic attack is not grounds for an admission."

"Will you at least settle for overnight observation in one of the regular rooms? He's not in any condition to go home right now, anyway."

Gibbs looked over at McGee, who was staring listlessly at the ceiling in a drugged haze. "Alright."


	4. Chapter 4

_**Author's Note:**__ NCIS belongs to CBS and Donald Belisarius. I am making no money off this._

_This story contains themes and descriptions of child abuse and mental illness._

**Chapter 4**

"They're all malnourished; it's begun to affect their growth rates," Dr. Richardson said. "Ashlynn would be at a healthy weight and height if she were four years old, but she's six. I think it's also hampered her mental development, but you'll need to talk to a psychologist about that to be sure."

"What about the boys?" Gibbs asked, taking notes.

"Cullen is still heavily sedated, but we took x-rays. His left leg had been broken once; both the tibia and fibula were snapped by something heavy. Might've been in an accident."

"Kevin?"

"Greenstick fracture in his right forearm. It looked recent; probably happened sometime last year."

Gibbs shook his head. "What else?"

Dr. Richardson looked at the charts. "Cullen's weight and height would put him in the same range as a nine or ten year old. Kevin's also two years behind, growth-wise. They both have a lot of old bruises, as well as newer ones, but I'm not sure what's from the abuse and which ones are from them roughhousing."

"Any sign of sexual abuse?" He hated asking that question, but it was part of the routine.

"Nothing physical."

Gibbs looked up. "What?"

"I'd like to tell you that there are signs, but this is strictly a physical evaluation." Dr. Richardson shook his head. "I'd feel more comfortable if you had a psychologist talk to them. I can't tell you anything definitive."

"What can you tell me about Cullen's injuries?"

The doctor went back to the chart. "The knife wounds damaged part of his right latissimus dorsi, as well as the medial delt-."

"In English, Doc."

"The latissimus dorsi is the muscle that goes from the hipbone and covers the back all the way up to the scapula. The medial deltoid covers the shoulder joint. He won't be able to reach his right arm out in front of him, or out to the side for about six to eight weeks."

Gibbs wrote that down in his notes. "I hate child cases."

"Looking at the pictures, and all this evidence…feels like I've been punched in the gut."

"Same here."

* * *

Ashlynn had cuddled into Tim's side as he slept. He looked down at her, the warm weight of her felt comfortable there. She looked…tiny.

"Hi, Mister Tim," Kevin whispered from the chair beside the hospital bed.

"What happened?"

"You got real shaky and freaked out, so the doctors made you sleep." He looked down at the floor. "Are you gonna be okay?"

He sat up very carefully. "I think so."

"Mister Gibbs said to watch you, so I'm doin' that." Kevin got out of the chair and started going for the door. "He said to find him when you woke up."

* * *

Gibbs was standing by the door when McGee came out of the bathroom. "How you feelin'?"

He shrugged. "Don't know yet."

"I know you gave a statement to the police, but we gotta go over it again."

McGee sat down on the hospital bed. "I know."

"You okay with doing it today?"

He took a deep breath. "I guess I have to be."

"I'm not pushing you, Tim."

Sighing, he propped his left foot up on the chair to tie his shoe. "What's gonna happen to the kids?"

Gibbs ran his hands through his hair. "That's still being debated."

"I killed their mom."

He went over and put a hand on the other man's shoulder. "Go see a shrink."

"What?" McGee wiped his eyes and looked up in disbelief.

"Get an appointment set up with a psychologist today; make sure it's somebody who specializes in dealing with law enforcement officers. Don't put it off."

"Boss?"

"That's an order McGee."

"I thought you don't like psychologists."

"Not generally, but they're a necessary evil sometimes." He squeezed Tim's shoulder. "Trust me on this."

"Who are you, and what have you done with Gibbs?" McGee asked.

The joke sounded forced, but it was a good sign. "Finish up, Vance wants us at the office in an hour."

* * *

"Director Leon Vance." Tim ran his fingers over the letters on the little sign stuck on the door.

"Tim." Gibbs said from the couch. "Sit down."

He rubbed at his right arm; his heart was racing again and he felt fire ants boiling under his skin. He suddenly felt dizzy, like he was going to be sick. "I don't feel good, Boss."

"Hang on." Gibbs reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the prescription bottle. He opened it, shook a pill out and handed it over to McGee. "Take one."

He dry swallowed the tiny pill and leaned his forehead against the wall. "Why is this happening?"

"Take deep breaths like that nurse showed you."

"Shit!" McGee pounded his fist on the wall. "Goddamn it!"

Gibbs put a hand on the younger agent's back. "I'll take you down to Abby's; give you time to calm down, let the Lorazepam kick in."

"But…the director…." He was gasping again. "I can't…"

"Come on, Vance'll get over being stood up."


	5. Chapter 5

_**Author's Note:**__ NCIS belongs to CBS and Donald Belisarius. I am making no money off this._

_This story contains themes and descriptions of child abuse and mental illness._

_I don't know if any of this is accurate, as far as the legal stuff about taking people off cases, but it sounds about right. Gibbs being a registered foster parent is someting I made up just to get around the whole "how do I get the kids to be taken care of by the team" plot hole. It's trite and cliched, but whatever. People use worse deus ex machina devices than that, right? _

_Bah. This is fan fiction, something people write just for the fun of it. It's not supposed to be a genius work of high-class literature._

**Chapter 5**

Abby was trying to coax the Turi children out from under her desk with Bert the Hippo, but they wouldn't budge. "See, he farts. It's funny." She squeezed the stuffed animal.

"No!"

Kevin was huddled under the desk with his sister, holding her close to him. "Go away!"

"Want Misser Tim," Ashlynn said. "You not."

Abby put Bert down next to them and stood up as Gibbs came in with McGee. She ran over, her heavy boots clomping across the floor. "Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs, I don't know what to do!"

He steered McGee over to one of the stools, making him sit down. "About what, Abbs?"

"The kids," she said, gesturing toward the office. "They won't come out from under my desk!"

He turned around and pulled her aside. "They're traumatized, Abby. You gotta give 'em a little space."

She looked back and saw a tiny hand reach out and grab the stuffed animal. "That…Gibbs, I only want to help them."

"I know, Abby." He kissed her forehead. "So do I."

She looked over at McGee, who was stupidly gazing around the room. "What happened to him?"

"He had to take a Lorazepam, it's kicking in."

Crossing her arms, she frowned. "That's a heavy drug, Gibbs."

"He's been having panic attacks."

Abby walked over to her friend and wrapped her arms around him. "Oh, McGee."

"You smell nice," he said, slurring the words a bit. "I love you, Abby."

Gibbs shook his head. "Keep an eye on him, will ya?"

"I thought the Director wanted to see him."

"I'll bring him down here."

"Eeep!" Abby started frantically organizing the table and equipment. "No, Gibbs, not yet! I'm not done replacing the cooling fan in Major Mass Spec and he's got all his machine bits showing! The Director can't see him naked like this!"

"I'm not naked," McGee said, touching his shirt. "Am I naked?"

Abby patted his head. "No, you silly."

There was slight movement over by the office door. "Misser Tim?"

Kevin was holding Ashlynn's hand, nervously stepping into the lab area. "Mister Tim, we gotta go pee."

Gibbs started to walk over, but they backed up quickly.

"Want Misser Tim," Ashlynn said.

He knelt down so he wasn't so intimidating. "Kevin, Mister Tim isn't feeling well. Is it okay if Abby and I show you both where the bathrooms are?"

Kevin pushed Ashlynn behind him. "Only you. Miss Abby scares Ashy too much."

"Okay." He looked at Ashlynn, who was holding Bert tightly to her chest. "Does Bert have to go potty?"

She nodded.

"Alright, then he can come too."

That got a slight smile from the little girl. She held her hand out. "Misser Gib."

Kevin was much more wary, but he took Gibbs' other hand. He looked at Tim, who was being hugged by Abby again. "Is she always nice?"

"Yep."

"She's kinda weird."

He laughed. "That's why we love her so much."

* * *

"McGee looks like hell," Vance said, coming into the lab. "You sure he's up for this?"

Gibbs looked at his youngest teammate sleeping on Abby's futon under one of the lab desks. "I don't know, but the sooner we get his official statement, the faster we close this."

"You can't be handling it anymore, Gibbs; your team's too involved. I'm taking you off the case."

"What case? It's an open and shut."

"It's an officer involved shooting and the body is a mother with three young kids. The press and the court system will go ape shit if they find out you're handling anything related to it. They'll start saying it's a cover-up."

Gibbs stared at Vance. "Who handles it, then?"

"Balboa's team."

"No."

"You can't choose who does the follow-up, Gibbs."

He really wanted to stand his ground, demand the right to conduct the investigation, but his gut said that wasn't where his attention was needed. "Let me at least find the kids' father, Leon. Notifying next of kin isn't handling the case directly, is it?"

Vance thought about it, then nodded. "Fine."

"What about their placement?"

"Still working on that."

Gibbs watched Kevin and Ashlynn lie down on Abby's futon next to McGee. "I'll take 'em."

Vance stared at him. "You're not serious."

"I'm qualified to be a foster parent," he said. "They've got my name in the system."

"Do you have any idea how much shit is going to rain down on NCIS if I let you do that?"

"Look at 'em, Leon; they won't be able to function in a group home."

"Christ, I'm going to regret this." He shook his head. "Fine, I'll have you put down as their guardian ad leitum until we find their father."


	6. Chapter 6

_**Author's Note:**__ NCIS belongs to CBS and Donald Belisarius. I am making no money off this._

_This story contains themes and descriptions of child abuse and mental illness._

_Thought I'd stick a Tony bit in here for filler._

**Chapter 6**

McGee stared at the ceiling, slowly spinning around in his chair.

Waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting some more.

More waiting.

"Hey, McDizzy, what's the verdict?" Tony asked, trying to lighten the mood. "Vance clear you yet?"

He shook his head. "He's still going over my statement."

Tony walked over to McGee's desk and looked down at his partner. "Dude, are you high?"

"Doctor gave me Lorazepam, Gibbs made me take it."

"How're you feeling?"

McGee glared at him. "Don't wanna talk right now, Tony."

"Okay."

"Misser Tim?" a small voice said from under McGee's desk.

"Jesus!" Tony jumped at the sudden appearance of a tiny, pale, haunted face. "Holy crap, she scared me."

Ashlynn ducked back under.

McGee sat up. "Yeah, Ashlynn?"

She whispered something, which he had to bend down to hear.

"Okay, I'll go get you and Kevin a candy bar." He forced himself to his feet.

"What's up with that?" Tony asked, trailing behind.

He shrugged. "No clue, but Gibbs said not to act like it's weird."

Tony glanced back at the desk. "Well, yeah; who doesn't have two creepy little kids living under their desk? I feed the ones under mine all the reports Gibbs makes me retype."

McGee didn't say anything.

"Look, I'm-."

"Could you not try to relate right now? I'm not….I have to get them something to eat."

Tony could see that McGee was struggling to keep himself from falling apart, and the medication was obviously making it hard for him to even function.

Tim was poking at the vending machine and nothing was coming out, but he didn't seem to realize it.

Tony sighed. "Here, I'll do it. Go sit down."

"Okay."

"I got your six, Tim. Don't worry about it."

McGee looked at him, confused.

"What?"

"You don't ever call me that."

"Yeah, well, first time for everything." He grabbed the snacks from the bottom of the machine. "Don't get used to it, though; this nice guy act is making me chafe."


	7. Chapter 7

_**Author's Note:**__ NCIS belongs to CBS and Donald Belisarius. I am making no money off this._

_This story contains themes and descriptions of child abuse and mental illness._

**Chapter 7**

Tim walked with Ashlynn and Kevin Turi toward their brother's hospital room. They were squeezing his hands numb. At least they weren't cowering under furniture or clinging to his legs anymore. It'd only been two days since it all happened, so he considered it a good thing.

"Cully gonna die, Misser Tim?" Ashlynn asked, staring up with her teary hazel eyes.

Kevin glared over at her. "Don't ask that, Ash, it's bad luck."

Tim knelt down and made them both look at him. "Listen, guys, the doctors took really good care of Cullen. He's only in here so they can keep an eye on his back."

Ashlynn started sobbing again. "I want Daddy!"

Kevin pulled her in for a hug. "He's killing terrorists and Cullen says we can't keep 'specting him to come home just 'cause mom went all psycho-bitch off her medicines again."

Tim cleared his throat to get their attention. "Come on, the doctor said we can only stay here for twenty minutes, okay?"

* * *

"Cullen Turi?" a tall man asked, poking his head into the hospital room.

Cullen didn't say anything, just shrugged; the stitched up gashes on his back were starting to throb.

"I'm Agent McGee from NCIS. Your brother and sister wanted to come in and see how you're doing."

Ashlynn ran in, all scared puppy-eyes and drippy. Typical. She climbed up on the bed next to him and snuggled into his armpit.

Cullen shifted the IV tubes around before they got pinched or something. "Are you guys okay?" he asked Kevin. He trusted his brother to be honest. Ash would exaggerate.

Kevin shrugged. "I guess. We didn't get hurt."

Cullen noticed that the man was still standing by the door. "Are you Social Services?"

"No."

"Cop?"

Kevin grinned wide. "He's a _Federal Agent_! We have a actual agent living in our apartments! He's like…like James Bond level awesome!"

"James Bond is MI-6, doofus. That's British spies. We don't have that here."

"Yeah, but, he's still awesome! He even has a _dog_ that's a cop!"

Cullen managed to smile; that was pretty cool. He glanced up. "So, if you're not from the social services, how come you're here?"

The agent looked at Ashlynn and Kevin. "I…I need to talk to your brother alone. Can you guys go wait outside for a sec?"

Kevin got really quiet and held Ashlynn's hand; he nodded. They walked out the door, but Ashlynn kept looking back like she was really scared.

Cullen knew something bad was going on. "What's goin' on?"

The man took a deep breath and sat down in the chair next to the bed. "My name's Tim McGee, I work with NCIS."

"The immigration people?"

Tim shook his head. "Sorry, um…it stands for Naval Criminal Investigative Services."

Cullen sat up. "My dad's not a criminal or an illegal immigrant. He's got the right papers and stuff, right? I mean, they wouldn't let him in the Navy if he didn't, would they?"

"No, they do…" Agent McGee paused. "Wait, your dad's an immigrant?"

"Yeah, he's from Wales."

Tim seemed impressed. "That…really? What part?"

"You heard of Wales?" Cullen asked, stunned. In all his twelve years, he'd _never_ met another American who'd heard of the country. They always thought he was talking about the animals.

"Well, Cardiff's where they film Dr. Who and Torchwood. That's the main city there, right?"

"Yeah." Cullen stared at the Navy Agent. "Wow, I thought I was the only one who watched that."

Agent McGee smiled, but then took a deep breath. "I need to tell you something about your mom."

Cullen sunk down into his pillows. He knew that would come up eventually. "It was an accident. She didn't mean to hurt me, okay? She just…she doesn't always take her medicines and…."

"Cullen, your mom's…."

"McGee," a gray haired man said sharply from the hall. "You were supposed to be watching these two."

Cullen shifted to look over at his brother and sister. They were hanging from the older man's arms like monkeys, but he didn't seem to mind it.

"Sorry, boss. I'll…" McGee looked sad for a second and turned to Kevin and Ashlynn. "Let's go play with Jethro, okay?"

Ashlynn came over to the bed and put a mushy Snickers on the bedside tray. "Misser Gibb gived me dis for you."

"Thanks Ashy," Cullen muttered, kissing her on the forehead. "Have fun playing with the cop dog."

Agent McGee left with Kevin and Ashlynn holding his hands like they were afraid he'd disappear. It was really strange for them to act like that.

The big guy, "Boss," came over and sat down. "I'm Agent Gibbs."

"Hi."

"Sorry I sent Tim out, but he shouldn't have to tell you what happened."

Cullen picked at the blanket. "Why not?"

"You need to know the whole story, first."

He looked up; the old guy had blue eyes like his grandpa. "What's goin' on?"

Agent Gibbs leaned forward. "Tim was taking his dog for a walk when he heard your mom shouting. Your brother and sister were outside and he was concerned because he heard you get hurt."

"She doesn't do it on purpose," Cullen muttered.

"Your mom died two days ago, son." Agent Gibbs took Cullen's right hand and started to talk in a soft voice. "She had a gun and was threatening to shoot you."

"Nononono…_No_! She wouldn't! Grandpa would've stopped her!" He backed away. "Where's Grandpa?" Cullen demanded. "I wanna hear it from _him_! Mom wouldn't shoot me! She _loves_ me!"

Gibbs shook his head. "He wasn't responding when Agent McGee went to check on him. The paramedics did everything they could, but he didn't make it."

Cullen felt his throat tightening. "Mom killed Grandpa?"

Agent Gibbs nodded. "I'm sorry."

Cullen choked back a sob. There was way too much going on in his head and he felt sick. He tried really hard not to show it, but he could feel his eyes burning from tears. A hand went to his shoulder, making him wince.

"I know this is hard, son…but, we're doing the best we can." Gibbs told him.

He didn't say anything. It was stupid.

The agent made him look up and stared into his face. "You're not to blame here."

Cullen pushed the older man's hand away and got angry. Who the hell was he to tell him what was right and wrong? His nostrils flared. "Get outta my face an' don't you fuckin' touch me!" he shouted.

Agent Gibbs backed up. "Okay, I'm sorry."

The next few minutes were tense. Neither one said a word for a while.

Cullen didn't want to let the old man see him being a weak, crybaby sissy. He hurt, he was really confused, and he had itchy tubes stuck into his hand. It was more annoying than the stitches. The pain in his back made him feel like he was going to throw up, so he curled into a ball and pulled the thin blanket up over his head.

* * *

Gibbs sat back in his chair and watched the kid withdraw into himself. He wanted to do something, but….damned if he knew how to handle it.

There were some shaky, half-muffled choking sobs coming from under the blanket. Gibbs shook his head.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Author's Note:**__ NCIS belongs to CBS and Donald Belisarius. I am making no money off this._

_This story contains themes and descriptions of child abuse and mental illness._

_I figured I should flesh out a few of the kids' interactions with the team here and there._

_Also, I have no idea why, but I think Ziva would be interested in the general idea of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Strong, female heroes who can kick serious ass are rare in pop culture, so she'd like it. _

**Chapter 8**

In the waiting area, Tony slammed his hand against the side of the vending machine. Bingo. Free chocolate.

"Wow, that was cool!" Kevin said, climbing down from the chair and coming over. "Can you do that to all the machines?"

Tony grinned. "Yup. I've been in here enough to know how to figure out all the weak points. That soda one over in the corner just needs a tight kick to the left side panel and you'll get a free Mountain Dew."

"Really? Can I try?"

DiNozzo laughed. "Sure."

Kevin ran over to the pop machine, reared his leg back, but then put it down again. He looked up. "Isn't that stealing?"

Uh, oh….this was a dilemma. Awesome, Cool Super Agent, the potential theft of a vending machine, impressionable kid coming out of his trauma shell. Crap! He had to think fast. "Well, it's not really stealing. See, I put money in and pressed what I wanted, but it didn't work. If the machine doesn't give you what you wanted, that's when you hit it."

"What if you don't have money and you're **really **thirsty?" Kevin wondered, staring up at the huge array of soda products.

Tony almost laughed when he handed over a dollar. "Here, you try to feed the beast some money and see if it works." He wasn't going to let on that he saw through the attempted scam. To be honest, he found it a little cute. Sad, too, since Kevin seemed to have put a lot of practice into it. "Can you reach the money slot?"

Kevin stood on his toes, trying to put the dollar into the machine. "I almost got it."

"Here, let me. You push the buttons, okay?"

"Okay." He looked up at Tony, apparently not sure what to make of him yet. "Thank you for the dollar."

"You're welcome, kid."

* * *

Ziva was told to watch Ashlynn while Kevin had his second check-up with the doctor. They were in the waiting room, toys all over the place, but the little girl immediately went over to the big coloring area.

Ashlynn was drawing on some paper at the table, her head down in serious concentration. She had her tongue stuck out the side of her mouth and was squinting at something. "What color dis?" she asked, holding up a sort of reddish crayon.

Ziva read the label. "Brick Red."

"I thought it somefin' else."

She leaned over and looked at the drawing; a closed flower. It had incredible detail for something done by a small child. "That is very good, Ashlynn. Where did you learn to draw like that?"

The girl shrugged. "Dunno. Jus' do."

"I like the way you made that little girl crouching under it. Is the flower her umbrella?"

Ashlynn shook her head. "Her brother builded her a flower house so the lady monster wouldn't get her."

She took a closer look. The flower was indeed a structure of some kind. There was a door, but no windows. The little girl looked to be sitting on a stoop. The dimensions were off, making the girl seem too big for the flower.

"Cullen gonna have his own house right next to me." Ashlynn said, starting to scribble some human-shaped thing off in one corner. There were lines from the Brick Red crayon on part of it. "Does blood hurt?"

Ziva scrunched her eyebrows, confused. "I do not understand."

The little girl pointed to the red lines on her drawing. "That Cullen. He had blood on him. Does it hurt bad? 'Cause, I don't want him to hurt."

She didn't know how to answer that. "It…it depends upon how bad the wound is. Some, they do not hurt at all. Others do."

Ashlynn looked at her, an extremely serious expression on her little face. "Momma can hurt us real bad but not make blood come out. I don't get punished so much, but sometimes I know she makes Cullen and Kevin cry really bad." She looked back down at the drawing of the little girl under the flower and started adding wings. "The fairy don't get hurt. Cullen says they have steel skin, and they're really pretty. He says that babies are….they used to be fairies. They wanted to come to mommies and daddies to make them happy, but they don't have steel skin anymore and….and sometimes the evil mommies and daddies make the babies go bad. He doesn't want me an' Kevin to go fucked up bad like him."

Ziva sat back in the chair; that had been the longest thing Ashlynn had ever said to anyone so far. "It will be different for you now, will it not? Your father will be returning home soon."

The girl stared down at the paper and sniffled. "Daddy is in Afganerstan making Osaba Aladdin be nice to 'Merica an' stop blowing up the New York."

"But, he is going to come back."

"No! He can't! Mommy will make him dead, too. Cullen can be the daddy, Daddy stays safe wif his sojers," Ashlynn cried, running over and latching onto Ziva's legs. "Make him stay in Afganerstan! Please? Don't let Daddy come back to be dead! Cullen can be the daddy! Please?"

Ziva reached down and picked her up. "Your father will be safe, Ashlynn. I am a special agent like Tim; it is my job to protect the people in the Navy."

She wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "You portec' Daddy?"

"I do." Ziva picked up a Kleenex and wiped the little girl's nose. "And I am here to protect you and your brothers, as well."

"Like Buffy?"

"Who is Buffy?"

She hiccupped. "Buffy kills bad things 'cause she's real strong an' can do ninja jumps."

Ziva made a mental note to ask Tony who this "Buffy" woman was, and why she had never heard of her before. "I suppose, then, I am like this Buffy person."

Ashlynn hugged her. "I like you, Miss Ziba."

"I like you, too, Ashlynn." She wrapped her arms around the little girl.


	9. Chapter 9

_**Author's Note:**__ NCIS belongs to CBS and Donald Belisarius. I am making no money off this._

_This story contains themes and descriptions of child abuse and mental illness._

**Chapter 9**

Gibbs and his team waited outside the psychologist's office. The three Turi kids were there to be evaluated.

* * *

"We don't need to do any talking, if you don't feel like it," Dr. Wexler told them. "If you want, you can play with the toys and just have some time to get used to the office."

Ashlynn hugged her big brother around the waist and didn't move.

Kevin looked at the doctor, then at Cullen; he was interested in the remote control monster truck sitting next to the big wall of books. He didn't move toward it until his brother nodded.

For his part, Cullen stood where he was, looking around and scowling. For a small, slightly malnourished boy of twelve, he was mildly intimidating. "So, what now? You gonna ask us stuff about naughty touches on dolls?" he asked.

"Do you want me to?" Dr. Wexler asked back.

"That's what they do in T.V. shows." Cullen adjusted the sling on his right arm, wincing a little. "You ain't paid to baby-sit, so I bet you got to have some way of telling how fucked up we are even if we don't talk."

Ashlynn let out a little gasp. "That's bad words!"

Cullen glanced down. "Sorry, Ashy."

She smiled and hugged tighter.

Dr. Wexler watched the boy settle Ashlynn into the big window seat across from the door and clumsily prop up one of the large stuffed animals next to her. Cullen sat on the edge of one of the plastic chairs to tell her something. The little girl nodded seriously and glared over at the psychologist. Kevin had moved so that he was playing closer to Ashlynn.

Cullen walked back to the couch, half sitting on the arm. "You gonna ask me stuff now?"

"What would you like me to ask?"

"Dunno. Never been to a psychologist before."

Dr. Wexler smiled. "But you've seen what we do on T.V., right?"

"Yeah."

"Hmm. Well, writers and actors have to work within story lines and time restrictions. A lot of the time, they tend to make things up to make it fit their parameters. See, unlike how the cop shows make it look, psychology is more of a study of the way the brain develops and how much it affects a person's identity or sense of self."

Cullen thought that over. "So…you don't just tell kids to point at doll parts or say the bad guys are crazy and can't go on trial?"

"Well, that's part of it, but only in really serious cases."

"Is our case really serious?"

Dr. Wexler took a deep breath. "I'm afraid so."

Cullen stood up from the arm of the couch and looked at his brother and sister. He obviously didn't want to talk. "I'm only doing this 'cause I was told to." He frowned a little. "I'll do all the talking, so Kev and Ash don't have to."

"Alright; I can accept that." The doctor went over to the easy chair and sat down. "I'm curious, though. Why don't you want them to talk to me? Are you protecting them?"

He shook his head. "No. They're just not so fucked up like I am."

"You really believe you're fucked up?"

Cullen sat down on the couch again, this time on the actual seat. "Yeah."

"Why?"

"Well, I always screw up, even when I'm tryin' to be nice and good and stuff." Cullen chewed his lower lip as he thought. "I don't do my chores right, and sometimes I do dumb things like play too loud. I try to keep them two," he jerked his head in the direction of his younger siblings, "from running around too much in the house or complaining. Sometimes I'm not so good at school, 'cause I fall asleep in class or I don't do my homework. I get Fs on my math all the time, even though I try really hard at it. I even stayed up almost all night one time and I still got all the questions wrong."

Dr. Wexler looked at him for a minute, which made Cullen uneasy.

"Stop lookin' at me like that."

"Like what?"

Cullen shifted uncomfortably. "Like I'm a bug you're gonna dissect. It's creepy."

"I'm sorry. I was just thinking about what you said."

"So? Doesn't mean you gotta stare at me."

The older man laughed. "Okay, I won't do it again."

"What now?"

"Well," Dr. Wexler looked at his watch. "Now I let Agents Gibbs and David know you're done for today."

"That's it?"

"Yup. That's it. Well, until next Wednesday."

Cullen started for the door. He clearly wanted to get out of the office and was looking around for Kevin and Ashlynn. They were sitting by the bookshelf playing with some cards. "Come on, guys. Time's up."

"Okay," Ashlynn chirped. She stood up.

"Gotta put the stuff away first, Fairy. We're guests, and guests don't leave messes," Cullen scolded.

Dr. Wexler noted the exchange, especially the nickname. That would be something to discuss at the next appointment.

Kevin paused at the door to look back. "Thanks for letting me play with the toys."

"Sank-you," Ashlynn echoed, smiling. She'd recently lost her front teeth.

The child psychiatrist waved. He had a long report ahead of him.


	10. Chapter 10

_**Author's Note:**__ NCIS belongs to CBS and Donald Belisarius. I am making no money off this._

_This story contains themes and descriptions of child abuse and mental illness._

**Chapter 10**

Dr. Wexler sat down at the head of the meeting table, opening his folder on the Turi case. "Mister Gibbs,"

"Agent Gibbs."

"Sorry." He pulled his report out from the other paper. "I was told you're the guardian ad leitum for the Turi children."

"That's right."

"Any luck getting ahold of their father yet?"

Gibbs shook his head. "When the military says 'no radio contact,' they mean it. I've been going through all the red tape the last couple days, but it's a slow process."

"It's probably just as well; this will give me more time to find out if he's a danger to them or not."

"Is that a possibility?"

"I don't know. I've only spent twenty minutes with them."

"So, what's this meeting about, then?"

Dr. Wexler sighed. "I'm concerned about you taking them on by yourself."

"Do they have behavior problems or something?"

He adjusted his glasses. "No. They're actually the quietest children I think I've ever seen."

"Then, what's the problem?"

"I know you're familiar with PTSD, considering your line of work."

"Yeah." Gibbs shifted in his chair. "I've dealt with it."

The psychologist nodded. "My concern is whether or not you'll be able to be there for them. They need individual attention and an atmosphere where they'll feel safe and protected. I'm just…can you provide that for them, given what you do?"

Scowling, Gibbs crossed his arms. "You're doubting my capabilities as a foster parent?"

"No, Agent Gibbs." Dr. Wexler slid his report across the table. "I'm only telling you this because these children have been entrenched in an environment that was so hostile that they've had to put up so many behavioral defenses that they're basically living on their survival instincts. What little socialization they did have has always been with each other. They have very little idea how to live outside of their family structure. I have a feeling that once Cullen is well enough to join them at your home, you're going to have your life thrown out of order."

"Are you trying to scare me off?"

"No. Just warning you to batten down your hatches; or whatever you Navy guys say when there's a storm coming." He laughed. "Seriously, though, Agent Gibbs. Do you have someone who can help you take care of them?"

Gibbs nodded. "I've got my team briefed on what's happening, and they've offered to help me when they can."

"That's a little unorthodox, but…do you trust them?"

"With my life."

Dr. Wexler stood up and held his hand out. "Then, good luck."

Gibbs stood, shook hands with the doctor and then picked up the report. "I'll look this over at home."


	11. Chapter 11

_**Author's Note:**__ NCIS belongs to CBS and Donald Belisarius. I am making no money off this._

_This story contains themes and descriptions of child abuse and mental illness._

**Chapter 11**

Senior Chief Petty Officer Morgan Turi was confused when his Commanding Officer ordered his return to base. He'd been in the field for at least three weeks, overseeing the construction of a temporary fueling station and drop site. They had at least another two weeks to go before it was ready for use. He was ahead of the projected deadline by a couple days, but still. Why haul him in now? The squad was just about to pour concrete around the storage tanks.

"Don't know the reason, Sarge," the young corporal said. "All I was told was to come get you."

Morgan rolled his eyes. Damn Army grunts always mistook the Seabees like him for Marines. "Hand over the paper, kid."

"Paper?"

He glared at the young man. "The CO's orders, note, telegraph, e-mail print out. Do I have to draw a bloody diagram for ya?"

The corporal blinked, thrown off by the vowel-y accent. "I-I'll need to see some ID first."

Morgan held up his military ID. "Morgan Alun Turi, Senior Chief Petty Officer, Builder, US Navy."

"Oh…sorry." the corporal mumbled to his sandy boots. He handed over the note from Head Quarters.

* * *

Three days, one close call with an IED and God knows how many goats later; Morgan was sitting in a fortified hotel lobby nervously fiddling with the buttons on his khaki shirt. He'd been told that there was a family emergency, but beyond that, no one had told him anything else. Was it his dad? The old man was almost ninety, and a bit senile. Heart attack? Stroke? Did he fall? Morgan wondered what was taking so long. Why was he left waiting?

* * *

Gibbs watched Kevin chase Ashlynn around his back yard with a worm; it was nice to see them actually acting like kids for once.

It'd been a rough couple of days and there were a few hiccups to work out.

Ashlynn was still scared of Abby; the little girl would run into the spare bedroom and hide if it was her turn to babysit them. She loved Ziva and Tim, refusing to leave their side when they came over.

Kevin wouldn't eat unless his sister was fed first; apparently, he thought that the reason they were too small and malnourished was his fault.

Cullen was still in the hospital; he'd developed an infection in one of his wounds and the doctors decided to keep him an extra few days.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, he pulled it out. "Gibbs."

"We've gotten ahold of the dad. Vance is waiting for you at MTAC."

"Who's babysitting?"

"Ziva's on her way over. McGee has a psych appointment and I've got to follow up on some leads I found in the Kersey case."

"Alright. Tell Vance I'll be heading over as soon as Ziva shows up."

"Will do, boss."

Gibbs shut the phone and sighed. "Kevin, put the worm down. Ziva's coming over to watch you two for a while."

Ashlynn streaked over to the back door. "Ziba's coming?"

"Yup."

"I want Ziba to see my new shirt!" She ran inside.

Kevin watched her, looking confused. "How come she likes Ziva so much?"

"She feels safe with her."

"I heard Tony say that Ziva can kill people with paperclips." He looked worried.

Gibbs shook his head and stooped down. "Kevin, she's not going to hurt you."

"How do you know? She might get mad at me and then go crazy and-."

"Look at me, Kevin." He put his hands on the boy's shoulders. "Ziva is not like your mom, you hear me?"

"But-."

"Are you afraid of her?"

He nodded, looking away.

"That's why you don't talk around her?"

Another nod.

Gibbs sighed. "I've got to go into work, but we can talk about this when I get home, okay?"

"Okay."


	12. Chapter 12

_**Author's Note: **__I don't own any rights to NCIS. I'm just using the playground._

**Chapter12**

Ducky finished typing the autopsy report for Geraint Turi. The poor man had died of a severe depressed fracture to the occipital lobe after a savage beating. There was evidence of malnourishment, frequent neglect and chronic bouts of over-medication. Whether the last issue was accidental or not remained to be seen. He looked over his shoulder at the freezer door where Marianne Turi awaited her turn on his table. "You've caused an awful amount of damage, young lady. I hope I can find something to help you explain yourself."

"Have anything for me, Duck?" Gibbs asked.

"I've just finished the autopsy report on Geraint; I have yet to receive any outside medical or psychiatric information on Marianne."

"What can you tell me about the old man?"

"He was barely into his seventies; that's hardly what I would consider to be 'old,' Jethro," Ducky said before going into detail about what he'd found.

"Thanks, Duck." Gibbs took the file. "I'll be in MTAC talking to the father."

* * *

After roughly five hours of waiting, Morgan was hunched over a laptop and staring at a man from DC. The feed was a little glitchy.

"Senior Chief Turi, I'm Agent Gibbs with NCIS."

"NCIS? I thought this was a family emergency."

"It is," Agent Gibbs said. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but your wife and father are both dead."

Morgan lurched back in the folding chair. "What? How? What the fuck happened? Are the kids safe?"

The agent shifted his stance and crossed his arms. "How aware were you of your wife's mental state?"

"I know she's bi-polar, but she's on medication for it. Has been since I met her. What does….," then it dawned on him. "Oh, God, did she kill herself after my dad died?"

Agent Gibbs didn't move, and it was hard to make out his expression.

"What about my kids, are they being looked after? Can I see them?"

"That's another thing we need to discuss, Senior Chief."

"What the hell is going on? Why is NCIS even involved?"

There was another burst of random pixilation and then some lag. "Killed your father. She had a gun pointed at your son and was about to pull the trigger. If he hadn't acted, Cullen would be dead right now."

The last sentence threw him. He really hoped he hadn't heard that right. "Repeat your last."

Agent Gibbs got closer to the screen, he looked pissed. "I said that your mentally unstable wife brutally attacked your twelve-year-old son. When he tried to step in, your father was beaten to death. My agent overheard the commotion and went in to try to diffuse the situation. He had no choice but to kill your wife. If he hadn't, Cullen would have been shot to death by his mother."

Morgan suddenly couldn't breathe. "How…Marianne…what? No, she…she would never…"

"….long has this kind of abuse been going on, Senior Chief?"

"What? Abuse? I don't…"

"How could you **not****know** that your wife was physically and mentally abusing your children?"

Morgan gaped at the screen. This was insane. "Cullen…is he…are the kids all…where are they?"

"They're in protective custody."

"Can I see them? A-are they there now?"

The screen blanked out. "Agent Gibbs!" Morgan started tapping keys, trying to get the signal back. "No! Please, don't do this!"

* * *

Gibbs was disgusted with himself, but he'd needed to know what kind of person Morgan Turi was. The second those words had reached the other man, and after seeing the realization hit, Gibbs felt like he'd just been gut-punched. He shook his head. "Call him back."

"I can't, Agent Gibbs. We've lost the window; you'll have to do it tomorrow."


	13. Chapter 13

_**Author's Note: **__I don't own any rights to NCIS. I'm just using the playground._

_This chapter's a little longer than usual._

**Chapter 13**

Morgan couldn't sleep. He hadn't slept for almost two days. His thoughts were going too fast for him to catch up. He felt like he had to relive every single memory of his kids. He paced in the hotel room, trying hard not to punch his reflection in the mirror above the dresser. He couldn't stand to look at himself at the moment. That failure. The absentee father. The fucking shit-head quiet, oblivious abuse enabler.

When he'd been home from deployments, he'd always expected that the children would want to spend as much time as they could around him. Even then, the long hours on base, and watch schedules kept him away from his family for fifteen to sixteen hours a day.

From what he did recall, Marianne was always tired and sometimes short tempered; being that she was a caretaker for his father while being a full time mum, it made sense in that context. But, behind all that, he never gave it a second thought. He never suspected that her behavior was from getting back on the medications.

Agent Gibbs had faxed over a brief summary of what a Dr. Wexler had found out. Marianne would start to go back on her medications because she was trying to conform to Morgan's ideal of what she should be as a wife. Once he was gone, she stopped because she felt she didn't need them anymore.

The last time he'd been with the kids, Cullen would sometimes look like he was trying to say something, but then seemed to change his mind.

For the life of him, Morgan couldn't ever remember hearing anything from the kids about Marianne being abusive to them.

And, his dad…he was always dotty about things. He couldn't seem to remember very much, always got confused about if he took his medicines or ate. The doctors had said it was because of Alzheimer's. They'd even told him that the childish anger and strange hatred of Marianne was just another symptom. "Oh, God," he moaned. "How the hell did I miss this?"

And Ashlynn…he was always a little worried about how slowly she seemed to be developing mentally. She talked like a three year old, didn't make eye contact, rarely showed emotions. The pediatrician had even suggested she be tested for Autism.

"Autistic my fuckin' ass!" Morgan shouted, punching the wall of his hotel room. He stalked back to the bed and sank into it. Where the fuck had he _been_ all this time while his family was rotting from the inside?

He wanted to go home, to see his children. He wanted to hold them and apologize and make them feel safe and promise never to let anything like that happen again.

But, he was worried. Was this a "too little too late" situation?

"Guys, I'm so sorry," Morgan whispered to the little family photo he was clutching.

He needed to talk to someone who could give him advice, so he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and punched in a number.

"_Chaplains office."_

* * *

Gibbs stood outside Cullen Turi's hospital room, waiting for the kid to get dressed. The doctor had already unhooked the kid from the I.V. an hour earlier. He knocked on the door. "You almost done in there, Cullen?"

No response.

He waited another two minutes.

The door opened and Cullen peeked his head out. "Your clothes stink."

Gibbs looked down. "What?"

"The clothes you got me. They smell weird."

"They've been in a closet for a while; I guess the musty smell doesn't come out with just one wash."

Cullen came out of the room and rocked back and forth on his feet, clearly nervous. He looked up at Agent Gibbs. "Are we gonna go to your house?"

"That's the plan."

"What about my stuff at home?"

"I had one of my agents go pick things up at your apartment. Kevin helped him pack."

"Oh."

Gibbs put a hand on Cullen's shoulder; it made the kid edge away. "You ready?"

Cullen took a deep breath. "I guess."

After a short walk and a tense elevator ride to the lobby, Gibbs tried to make a peace offering. "We have to swing by Agent McGee's place and pick up your brother and sister first."

Cullen stomped a couple yards ahead, pissed. "I don't want to go there! Not ever! You're letting Ashlynn and Kevin stay with a murderer!"

Gibbs sighed. "We've been over this with Doctor Wexler already. Kevin and Ashlynn are with Agent McGee because they feel safe with him. They know he didn't mean to hurt anybody. He was trying to protect you and your mom didn't give him any other choice."

"Mom wouldn't….she….they're stupid to trust that fuck-head."

"They're not stupid, they're young. There's a difference. And don't call my agent a fuck-head again. He's a good man and he doesn't deserve that from you."

* * *

Cullen ran out to the parking lot. He didn't want to hear the crap grown-ups were saying anymore. He couldn't think right, and being mad all the time was too hard to keep up. He walked around the cars for a few seconds, before realizing he didn't know which one was Agent Gibbs'. He made his way back to the hospital lobby. He really hoped that Gibbs wasn't mad.

* * *

Gibbs waved off a nurse who was frantically trying to catch up to them with a wheelchair.

"But…hospital…policy…," she panted. "Sir!"

He turned back and gave her a smile. "He's already outside. Doesn't look like he'll need it."

She let out a frustrated huff and shoved the wheelchair into a corner before angrily stalking off.

Right then, Cullen meandered back to Gibbs. "What'd you say to piss of the nurse?"

"That you didn't need a wheelchair."

The kid looked up, confused. "Why would I need a wheelchair? There's nothin' wrong with my legs."

"Hospital policy. If you've got an injury and they let you go home, they have to wheel you out. Mostly it's so you don't sue them if you fall down in the lobby."

Cullen shook his head. "That's really dumb."

"Yup, but it happens."

"Why?"

"Some people don't want to work to get rich. Suing is easier."

"So, if I fell down right now, and then said I got hurt really bad, I could make a billion dollars?"

Gibbs laughed. "Nope. Wouldn't work."

Cullen crossed his arms. "Why not? You just said…"

"You went out to the parking lot and walked back in under your own power. You're not a patient anymore, so you can't sue them."

"That makes no sense!"

Gibbs chuckled. "Cullen, the entire legal system is designed to confuse people."

"How come you let me walk, if you know that I gotta have the wheelchair?"

Gibbs sighed. "Didn't cross my mind until we hit the lobby and the nurse started yelling."

"Oh." Cullen kicked at a rock. "Are you mad at me?"

"What for?"

"Saying things about Agent McGee and running out of the hospital."

"No," Gibbs said, unlocking the car. "You're still hurting and probably confused about the situation. Things get said. Sometimes you don't mean them and other times you do. It's normal. "

Cullen got in the back seat and put on his seatbelt. "Am I ever gonna not be confused and hurt and stuff?"

"Couldn't tell ya, kid. I'm pretty sure it'll go away a little, but you'll always have some of the hurt there."

"What about the confused part?"

"That's part of growing up. The trick is to figure things out bit by bit. It takes time."

Cullen stared out the window. "Growing up sucks."

"Yeah, it does sometimes."

* * *

The ride home had been pretty quiet. Half way to McGee's apartment, Gibbs glanced in the rearview mirror and noticed that Cullen was picking at a little hole on the left knee of his jeans. He heard the kid's stomach growl.

"Hey, you hungry?"

A nod.

"You like Burger King?"

Cullen stared at the car floor. "I don't have any money."

"Don't worry about it, I'm payin'."

"Don't have to. I won't be jealous."

Gibbs shook his head. "Look, Cullen, I'm you legal guardian until your dad gets back. That makes me kind of like a substitute parent. You understand what that means?"

"That I gotta listen to you when you tell me to do stuff and you get to punish me if I break your rules."

Gibbs nodded. "Well, there's that. But, it also means I have to take care of ya. Meaning, if I want a Whopper with large fries and a Coke, and you happen to be hungry, I gotta pay for whatever you want. I've got no choice. The law says so."

Cullen squinted up at the NCIS Agent. "What if you break the law?"

"You get to tell Agent DiNozzo and he'll put me under arrest and handcuff me to my desk for two hours."

"Seriously?"

"Yep."

"You're not just giving me shit 'cause I'm twelve?"

"Nope."

"So, that means if I want what you're having, but instead I want a chocolate shake, you have to pay for it?"

"No way around it. I have to."

"Huh." Cullen grinned. "Okay. That's what I want."

Gibbs laughed. "Okay, then."

* * *

Cullen sat forward in the booth, sucking down his shake. He couldn't believe it. Agent Gibbs had actually paid for his food like he'd said he would. A whole six dollars and eighty cents! And he didn't scold him, or chew him out, or tell him to pick something else. It was awesome!

His smile faded when he thought about what his mom would've done if she'd been the one to take him to Burger King. Not that she ever did. It was usually Grandpa Turi, and he never had enough money for two whole meal deals. They'd always had to share one.

Cullen felt his eyes start to tear up and he blinked. His throat was feeling tight too, like he was gonna start crying. He put his head down in his arms so nobody would see his face.

* * *

Gibbs had been working his way through the fries, periodically glancing over to check on how Cullen was doing. So far, he was pleased to see, the kid had managed to eat everything. He noticed Cullen had pulled out the tomatoes and ate the pickles separately.

Now, though, Cullen had his head down.

"You feelin' okay over there?" Gibbs asked, slightly concerned.

"Ice cream brain freeze," the boy choked out.

He was crying. Gibbs didn't say anything about it. He changed the subject instead. "If you're tired, we can take the rest of this home and you can catch some sleep. It's probably your pain meds. They have that effect on people."

Cullen nodded, a muffled sob breaking loose. "I wanna keep the shake for later, please?"

"Okay."


	14. Chapter 14

_**Author's Note: **__I don't own any rights to NCIS. I'm just using the playground._

_Thanks everybody for all your reviews. _

_Loverofallthingsmusic__: If you're really serious about going into the Navy, remember these tips: _

_Memorize the rank insignias, the ten duties of a watch stander and the Sailor's Creed __**before**__ you go in. Talk to your recruiter about those; see if you can get a copy. Don't let him bullshit you, either. He's there to sell the Navy and make it sound easy. It's not. _

_Don't get angry when one person in your division screws up and causes everyone to be punished for it; it's to teach you that your very life depends on the person standing beside, in front and behind you. _

_Practice taking two-minute showers in cold water; that's about how it'll be._

_Don't lock your knees when standing at attention; it'll make you pass out._

_Know how to swim; seriously, they make you tread water without kicking your legs for fifteen minutes with Petty Officers in scuba gear lurking in the pool to pull you under._

_Learn to run 1 ½ miles in under 13 minutes._

_If you start seeing weird shit out of the corner of your eye, you've probably got sleep deprivation. It'll probably freak you out at first, but you'll get used to it._

_Get used to being tired; it won't stop until they send you off to A-School or your first duty station._

_Get used to stenciling your name into your underwear and spending hours on end learning to fold your clothes properly. Use starch liberally when ironing. _

_If you get sick, go see a doctor immediately, don't wait until a Petty Officer actually threatens to escort you to the hospital like I did. That's not tough and impressive, it's stupid and reckless._

_Lastly, if I could make it through boot camp with a massive inner ear infection and a mild case of walking pneumonia in the middle of a Chicago winter, anybody can. _

_Good luck, future shipmate._

**Chapter 14**

"_Can't believe I ever shitted you out…you're nothing but a fucking waste of air! Get that stupid look off your face! I can't stand that noise, shut that little bitch up! I don't care how hungry you are, you'll stay in that closet until you starve if I don't hear you praying! The next time I catch you pulling feathers out of that pillow I'll shove them down your goddamned throat! Serves you right, you retarded fuck."_ Cullen whimpered, pulling the pillow over his ears. _"You want to call Social Services? HERE, CALL THEM. THEY WON'T BELIEVE A LYING LITTLE BASTARD LIKE YOU ANYWAY! Your daddy can't help you anymore, he got blown up by terrorists because he's STUPID, like YOU!"_

His mom wouldn't stop yelling at him and he could feel her hand gripping tight over his shoulder. _"Stupid, fucking shit-head, you call this a clean knife? Huh? You think I'm gonna even touch food with a filthy fucking blade? You're going to clean this with a toothbrush next time, not that lazy, half-assed wiping with a dirty washcloth, either. Look how filthy this is! What if I got an infection from cutting myself? It would be all your fault! You're useless!"_ The knife slashed his back, twice. He screamed.

* * *

"Whoa, easy. You're all right, it's just a nightmare," Gibbs whispered, rocking Cullen in his lap. "You're okay now, safe."

"Daddy?" Kevin sat up in bed next to them.

"I'm Agent Gibbs, remember?"

"Oh."

"Cullen wake you up?"

Kevin nodded. "How come you're not mad at him for waking **you** up?"

Gibbs looked down at the younger boy. "Should I be?"

"Dunno."

"I'll bet you're used to people being mad at you."

Kevin shrugged. "Most times. It's 'cause I have a bad soul. Mom always says that we're nothing but evil demons she never wanted and that we're gonna go to Hell."

"That's not true, you know."

"You don't even know us. Nobody does."

Gibbs shook his head. "Y'know, I look at people and I can tell if they're good guys or bad guys. It's my job to be able to see the difference. When I look at you and Cullen, I see two boys who haven't even grown up yet, but they have a lot of scary things they have to fight. Not only that, but they even protect their sister from all the bad stuff so that she doesn't have to have nightmares like they do."

"Really?"

"Yup."

"How come we gotta fight in the first place?" Kevin grumbled, crossing his arms and glaring at the bedroom window. "It's not fair, and we aren't even in the Navy like Dad."

"Sometimes, that's just how life works out. But, you're right. It's not fair."

"So, how come it happens?"

"To be honest, Kevin…." Gibbs let out a yawn. "I don't have an answer for that."

Kevin nodded seriously, then scrambled out of the bed and ran for the door. "Sorry, Mr. Gibbs, but I gotta pee really bad."

Gibbs laughed and shook his head, gently putting Cullen back down under the covers. "You're **both** good kids," he whispered. "Don't forget that."

* * *

"Morning, Tim." Dr. Clarke said, nodding as the agent sat down on the couch. "I take it you're ready to talk about the shooting now."

"Yeah."

Dr. Clarke sat across from Agent McGee and waited.

"I can't stop thinking about what happened. It's hard to…think up the right words to…how to describe it."

"That's okay. I can imagine it's difficult to take someone's life, even when you're given no other choice."

"I didn't have to shoot her, did I?" he asked.

"Do you feel you did everything you could to diffuse the situation?"

"I tried to get her to stop, you know? I did. But…she just…she had such a….Her eyes were…." He sighed. "I'm not explaining this right, am I?"

"What was her state of mind while you were talking to her?"

"It was…." He looked around the room, searching for a proper word. "She was all…wrong somehow."

"How?"

"She was going to shoot her son!" Tim shouted, getting to his feet. He started pacing, agitated. "What kind of mother…She was like a rabid….I can't even think of her as a human being anymore!"

"Can you explain why that is?"

"No. I can't." Tim sat down again and slouched back. "I'm trying to…but…I mean, she was my neighbor…I thought she was nice when I met her, and now…Did I screw up?"

"I get the feeling that there's more to that question. Am I right? It's not just the fact that you shot Mrs. Turi, or her insanity."

"Why didn't I know about this sooner? I could've called child welfare services or the police, or done _something!_ I live one floor above them! Why didn't I notice them? I'm a damn _federal agent_, I'm supposed to _protect_ people!"

Dr. Clarke nodded. "Tim, listen to me. This is not your fault. From what Dr. Wexler read in her psychological treatment records, Marianne Turi was very good at hiding her condition from the outside world. A lot of people with High Functioning Borderline Personality Disorder can be great actors. They know how to hide what they're doing when they know if it's illegal or socially unacceptable. It's one of the dominating traits of the disease."

"I still should've noticed something was wrong!" Tim insisted. "And now…I…I don't know if…The two younger kids love me, and I don't understand why. I shot their mom. I know Cullen probably hates me, and I can understand that, but…"

"Ashlynn and Kevin are hero worshiping you. You're strong, you saved their big brother from being killed, and you helped them get away from a terrifying home. They're young enough that they don't fully understand what that meant you had to."

Tim shook his head. "I have nightmares about it, though. Mrs. Turi's face is always so…twisted. It's like she…was getting off on the idea of shooting me. It always ends with her shooting Cullen and then me 'cause I'm too scared to move. I try so hard to stop her, but then I look at her eyes and I'm…I'm looking at something…empty and demonic."

The psychologist patted Tim's shoulder. "That's a typical reaction to a traumatic event, but you can't let it dominate your thinking. When you start trying to pick apart everything you did, you'll be consumed by it. That's how agents begin to burn out. They focus too much on what they could have done, or hadn't done, and it becomes an obsession."

"Which is why we have mandatory counseling sessions like this, right?"

Dr. Clarke smiled. "You got it."

"So…what happens next?"

"There's going to be maybe a month of periodic check-ins to see how you're doing. If you feel you need more sessions after that, we can work out a schedule that won't interfere with your duties."

"So, I can still go out in the field?"

"Maybe after two or three weeks of leave. Director Vance wants you to decompress, and suggested that you take a vacation."

Tim thought about it. "Yeah, I do kind of feel like I need my space for a while."

"Come back and see me when your vacation's over and we'll see if you're fit for field duty."

"Sounds good."

Dr. Clarke shook Agent McGee's hand. "Hope you feel better soon."

"Thanks."

"Tim."

"Yeah?"

"Mrs. Turi's mental illness is what caused her to do what she did. None of it was your fault. Remember that. Chant it in the shower or write it out a hundred times every single day if you have to, but get that into your head now. It'll help you keep your perspective."


	15. Chapter 15

_**Author's Note: **__I don't own any rights to NCIS. I'm just using the playground._

_Thanks everybody for all your reviews. _

**Chapter 15**

Ashlynn sat in the far back corner at Kindergarten. It was her first day back since Mommy was Bad and Granpa went to see Granma in Heaven. Cullen said it was 'cause of Mommy not being a good girl and taking her medicines. He said that Mommy had gone to be Punished Forever by the Debil.

Daddy was coming home soon, and then they would be a proper good family. At Art time, she drawed a picture of him so she could 'member what he was suppodes to look like. He wore those funny camel clothes so that he would be imbisable and not be shot by the bad guys. She didn't want him drawed too big, just in case that Osaba Aladdin was looking for him. Just in case, though, she drew Agent Gee for him. Agent Gee would portect Daddy from Osaba.

Miss Natasha was telling them about Sharing after snack time. Elmo was singing about it on the TV. Ashlynn didn't like Elmo anymore; he was all covered in red, and red was a bad color 'cause it was for blood. Blood was bad. She couldn't decide if she was sad for Elmo for being covered in the blood color, or if he was that way because he liked the blood color because he was a bad boy. It was too confusing, so she didn't like Elmo anymore.

* * *

"Ashlynn germs, no returns," Gabby chanted, smearing her hand on some passing girl's arm. She cackled at the horrified expressions on the two girls' faces. "Now your mommy's gonna kill you dead after school time!

Becky shrieked. She had to get rid of the bad germs fast, so she ran off to wipe her hands on somebody else, hopefully a boy this time.

Justin ran off crying to Miss Natasha after Becky gave him Ashlynn's germs. "MISS 'TASHA! I DON'T WANNA BE KILLED BY MY MOMMY! PLEASE DON'T LEMME GET KILLED"

* * *

Ashlynn was in Nurse Bobby's office, sobbing into the pillow on the nap cot. Justin's mommy was gonna kill him and it was gonna be all her fault! She should've kept her germs on herself better and not let Gabby take them from her! Her chest hurt from all the tears and screams built up inside it and it made her have the hiccups.

Nurse Bobby was talking to Mister Gibb and Miss Ziba about Gabby and Becky and how they cursed Justin to be killed by his Mommy.

This was all her fault!

Knowing that only made her cry worse.

* * *

Ziva sat in the principal's office, listening to Ms. Natasha Reynolds explain the situation to the three mothers and the principal. She was there to serve as Ashlynn's representative in the matter. Gibbs had said it might be more comfortable for them to have a woman present, rather than him.

"She would never do something like that!" Lisa Jacobs insisted. It was preposterous to even suggest that her daughter was even capable of this kind of behavior. "Gabby is one of the sweetest, most loving little girls in the class!"

Ms. Reynolds shook her head. "Mrs. Jacobs, this is the third time in a month that I've caught your daughter bullying the other children. You need to have a serious talk with her before it gets worse!"

"I still don't understand how Rebecca got involved." Maria Owens said. "Was she one of Gabby's targets in this?"

"From what I understand, Gabby just reached out and rubbed her hands on the first person she saw. It wasn't planned."

"I can't believe this!" Lisa almost shouted. "This….this Ashley girl must have done something to my poor baby to make her scared! Maybe…Maybe…"

Ziva shot up from the chair, interrupting the annoying woman. "Ashlynn Turi has been through a very traumatic experience in which her mother bludgeoned her grandfather to death and very nearly killed her oldest brother. She is a very withdrawn child! Ashlynn would not be capable of…of" she paused, searching for the word. Was it instigate, or imitate? "She is not the kind to go up to someone she does not know on purpose. You are either very stupid, or you are being thin-headed about your daughter's obvious role as a child terrorist!"

Taken aback, the three mothers stared at her.

"Did I say something the wrong way?" Ziva asked the principal.

Mr. Garcia shook his head. "I don't think so, Miss David…well, perhaps you meant to say 'thick-headed.' Also, you might want to rethink calling Gabby a terrorist."

Helen Tyler, Justin's mom, raised her hand. "Um…I don't mean to…to interrupt, but…Justin is terrified, and I think…I think this is a very serious issue that needs to addressed." She tentatively looked up at Ziva. "I really am sorry about what happened, and I know that Ashlynn and her brothers must be having a really hard time adjusting...but…but if…if the children don't understand what's going on, this…this bullying could become….become worse for the three Turi children….and….and I'm worried what kind of backlash that might have on the others."

Ziva looked at Mr. Garcia and Ms. Reynolds. "What do you normally do in times when there is a…crisis event in your school?"

"We hold a teachers' conference and either schedule a school-wide assembly or have each teacher take a class period to carefully explain what's going on to the children," the principal said. "Why, what did you have in mind?"

"I think your teachers should be teaching the children how to behave like human beings instead of letting them run around in a yard like a pack of wild dogs," she snapped.

Mrs. Jacobs was livid. "HOW DARE YOU CALL MY DAUGHTER A BITCH! SHE'S SIX YEARS OLD, FOR GOD'S SAKE!"

Ziva got in the woman's face. "SIX IS OLD ENOUGH TO KNOW NOT TO PUBLICLY HUMILIATE ANOTHER PERSON WHO HAS LOST FAMILY MEMBERS TO VIOLENCE! A DAUGHTER LEARNS THESE THINGS FROM HER MOTHER, SO IF SHE IS A BITCH, THEN YOU LOOK IN A MIRROR TO SEE EXACTLY WHERE SHE GOT IT FROM!"

* * *

Kevin watched from outside the shared bedroom as Agent Gibbs was talking to Ashlynn about bullies and that there was no such thing as "evil" germs on people.

Everybody always ignored him, except for his brother and sister; being born in the middle sucked. Kevin pushed off from the wall and decided to go wander around the house. Agent Gibbs had said they could do anything they wanted here.

The basement door was open, so Kevin decided to take a look around. Maybe it was where Agent Gibbs kept trophies of all the times he saved people, or something.

Instead of a cool looking superhero type room, the large basement had a boat in the middle of it. The walls were lined with tables and all kinds of tools.

"Wow," he breathed. "This is awesome!"

Kevin walked around the boat, careful not to touch it. Instead, he found a few scraps of lumber and decided to make something for Agent Tim. He was always looking sad whenever they played with his dog.

Agent Tim was really nice, for a grown-up. Kevin couldn't understand why Cullen hated him, but then, his older brother didn't see what was happening like he did.

It was bad to not listen to Agent Tim that day, he knew that, but something was really wrong with Cullen and he'd wanted to help. Cullen always protected him and Ashlynn and Granpa, and no matter what, Kevin had always sworn that he'd do the same thing.

Instead, he'd seen his mom looking even more crazy than ever, and she'd been pointing a gun at Cullen. She even had her finger on the trigger and was always twitching it. She said killing Cullen would mean she didn't have to feed him anymore.

Kevin stopped gathering up the wood scraps and sniffed back some tears. He didn't know what he was going to make, but it had to be special. Agent Tim needed something special for having to kill somebody. Life was supposed to be….he didn't remember who said it, but it was important. The Dolly llama, or somebody like that, said that life should be treasured, and nobody should have to kill somebody else because it took away bits of their souls. "How do I put that part of his soul back for Agent Tim?" he asked the Universe. "He needs it. Not having it is making him really sad."

Being a Buddhist was hard, especially since he really didn't have any idea of what he was even doing. Kevin shook his head and concentrated on drawing a maze-looking star thing he'd seen in a book about India once. He wasn't sure what it was called, but it looked awesome, and had lots of color in it. Maybe if he carved one of those, Agent Tim would have his happiness back.

Kevin was so busy drawing that he didn't hear the stairs creak.

"What you up to, kiddo?" Agent Gibbs asked, quietly coming up beside his perch at the work table. "Hey, that's pretty good."

Kevin started and dropped the pencil. "I'm Sorry! I shoulda asked first, but….it's scrap wood, and I…I didn't touch anything on the boat and…." He looked down at his project. "You're not gonna hit me, are you?"

* * *

Gibbs hadn't expected to find Kevin in his basement, much less quietly working on something.

Kevin had been a lot quieter than Ashlynn or Cullen, and there was something about him that seemed….heavier than the other two.

"Nobody's hitting anybody, Kev, it's okay. I don't mind you using up the scraps," he said. "They'd just be kindling, anyway."

Kevin gulped back a sob. "I wanted to make something for Agent Tim, 'cause of what he did to save my brother."

"Okay, what do you have in mind?"

The boy held up the start of his drawing. "It's called a mandeela, I think. It's….I saw a picture in a book once and…it helps people get bad thoughts out of their heads. Like what Buddhists draw sometimes. I saw him kill Mom, and….and he was really….." Kevin wiped his eyes on the back of his shirtsleeve. "It made a piece of his soul go away and he needs it back so he won't be so sad anymore."

Gibbs nearly slid off the top of the work table. "You _saw_ that?"

Kevin nodded, starting to tear up again. "She was….said….said she didn't want to feed Cullen and that….that if….that it would be better if we didn't…..if we werealldead!" The last few words came out in a rush. He started crying.

"Jesus, Kevin, why didn't you tell anybody?" Gibbs asked, pulling the eight-year-old into a hug. "You needed to tell us."

There was a muffled response.

"What was that?"

Kevin shook his head. "Nobody sees me."

"What d'you mean?"

"Cullen got hurt….and….Ashy's just a baby…..I….I'm just in the middle."

"Hey, look at me, Kevin," Gibbs ordered gently. "You're important, too, kiddo. Just because you're not physically hurt or really little, that doesn't mean your hurt isn't bad enough to be fixed too."

"Why did Mom wanna kill us?" Kevin begged to know. "Was it my fault?"

This tore right into Gibbs' chest; he couldn't answer for a minute. "Kevin. Your mom had a….a very severe mental disease. I don't think she even knew what she was doing."

"Y-yes she did. I saw it. She meant all of her words," Kevin insisted. "She was gonna….she…she meant everything!"

Christ, what was he gonna do? This kid was traumatized and hadn't even said a word about it. He was more worried about Tim's missing happiness than his own. Gibbs just crouched on the basement floor and let the boy cry himself out.

The half-drawn Mandala lay on the work table; Gibbs made a mental note to talk to Dr. Wexler to see if helping Kevin finish it up properly would help the little boy let go of his guilt and terror. This was probably a case of something the shrink would call "projecting deeper emotional….whatevers."

Whatever the case was, Gibbs knew this was too much for somebody who'd only been alive for eight years to handle alone.


End file.
